


Steorfan

by HumanR



Series: Abūtor [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: (they are like 15 in here), Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Bad Parents Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Homophobia, Hurt Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Richie Tozier's Internalized Homophobia, Richie Tozier's Trashmouth, Richie cooking, Richie is not having a good time, Sexual Assault is refrenced by what happened to Beverly nothing explicit., Supportive Losers Club (IT), use of the f-word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22959604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanR/pseuds/HumanR
Summary: Steorfan: Old English meaning to die.Its where we get the word Starve.Which is all well and good but knowing how to say hes gonna die if he doesn't eat something in old English isn't going to help save his ass.(Or the one in where I take that small insignificant number on Richie's missing page from It (chapter 1) and go off the head cannon that Richie doesn't get enough food and has neglectful parents.)
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (onesided), Richie Tozier & Everyone, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Series: Abūtor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835875
Comments: 39
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for the following: domestic abuse, child abuse, violence against a child, homophobia (internalized and external), child neglect and starving a child. 
> 
> There is also a lot of talk about food & specific ways of combating hunger that are NOT healthy. 
> 
> I tried to keep the tone in a joke-like, nothing matters, style as I think that is exactly how Richie 'Trashmouth' Toizer would react and handle things, however, this is a serious topic and I completely understand that. 
> 
> That being said, i am not a psychologist, if you have experienced any of the trigger warnings listed here and in the tags please be cautious while reading. I know a lot of catharsis can come from reading fics like this and sometimes even closure, however, i cannot promise this fic will do that for anyone as I have not written this with the intention of doing so. Also I don't think my writing level has gotten to the point in where I could safely and healthily do so. 
> 
> I know this sounds a bit preachy but my main concern is other peoples health and safety. I am debating copying and pasting this warning onto every chapter or leaving it on the first one. I am going to assume that i don't have to and only leave it here. 
> 
> Okay cheers.

Let’s get something straight ‘aight.

It wasn’t like Bev.

His dad didn’t go around looking like a fucking perv. Watchin’ from over newspapers and in the corners of the room. His dad didn’t make the fucking bathroom be the only place to get some privacy. Although had that been the case just take a massive shit and turn the bathroom into a warzone of germs and—not the point.

The point was yeah, his dad had hit him a couple times. Maybe once or twice with a belt. And maybe those had scarred. But he like deserved it those times.

Like his mouth got him in trouble everywhere. It wasn’t like his house was gonna be any different.

Sure sometimes coming home to a note that just said ‘Clean’ and looking around at all of the broken glass embedded in the carpet of the living room—never in the parlor or dinning room, god forbid it be somewhere that people can see—and having to spend the night picking up glass shards until his fingers bled because he really didn’t want to be locked downstairs again, sucked ass. But that was just chores. Who in their right mind liked chores? Eddie was a fucking nerd and Mike was the literal embodiment of sunshine, so they didn’t count.

But it wasn’t like what Bev’s dad did to her. Or more accurately, what he had been doing to her now that he was living with her aunt, three blocks away from Ben. 

So, when he gets home from school on Thursday--just popping in to dump his homework upstairs and grab the comics he promised Stan he could borrow—and his father says "Me and your mother are going to Aruba. Four weeks. I expect the house spotless when we get back. No party's. There should be enough food to last ya." He opens up the fridge out of sheer curiosity for what a month worth of food looks like only to discover that there is barely enough food to cover a week and a half. And that the rest of the cabinets and pantries are basically empty too. Hes not surprised.

He gets one meal a day at school and he’s gone hungry before.

Ain’t the first time his parents forgot he needed to eat. Won’t be the last.

So, when he meets up with the losers, he doesn’t mention it.

Because it’s not a big deal.

***

His off-white paint was cracking off the walls to slowly drift down every time he shifted in bed, trying to find a way to sleep that didn’t exacerbate the problem. Heh. Exacerbate. Masturbate. He was the king of comedy. And as nice as cracking one out in theory sounded, it would just make things worse.

Normally, he could ignore the aching of his ribs and the soreness coming from his wrenched shoulder, curtesy of Victor Criss and his father respectfully, but tonight it’s as if the pain is piercing. He’s just being a fucking pussy. Can’t be a fucking man about it.

He sits up leaning against the wall behind him.

The words Victor cussed out of him pounded into his head.

Fuck.

His father may have not said faggot but that is exactly what he meant when he hissed be a man while yanking him deeper into the house. It could have been worse. Instead of getting dragged downstairs dad just dropped him into his room. Which was better than getting trapped downstairs for the three weeks his parents were going to be gone. 

Which was why he was so unmanly upset, hes in pain. And definitely not because Victor Criss called him a faggot. 100% not because of that.

Richie slams his head against the wall.

Think about anything else except faggot, please internal Richie, anything else.

He’d have the house all to himself. Which is exciting. Yay! Although that was probably more about not having to deal with his parents than to the empty house.

They hadn’t even left yet, and he could hear the silence rattling around the room. Somewhere, off in the distance he could even hear the clowns fucking ridiculous fucking song.

 ~~ _I k n o w y o u r s e c r e t y o u r d i r t y l i t t l e s e c r e t_~~. 

Fucking Clowns.

None of his friends caught the lie that he was scared of clowns and a part of him wonders exactly how long that will last. 

He thinks about how exactly he's going to survive the next few weeks. Makes meal plans and wonders exactly how he was going to make the meger supplies in the fridge and cabinets last. Considers, not for the first time about building a garden.

He is only brought out of his thoughts when the sun comes up. By the time he gets home from school today his parents will be half way around the world. 

He gets up, might as well go to school early. 

He washes quickly not wanting to be caught by his father in the hallway, or worse in the kitchen. His dad finding him in the kitchen after being mad at his beautiful comment last night would not end well. 

The last time had been enough of a warning that he wouldn't ever forget. 

He got dressed tossed in the homework he had meticulously done with Eddie. Which hadn't been an excuse to sit next to Eddie all afternoon yesterday at all. So what if he had noticed the way the light bounced off his hair revealing the honey brown strands that took his breath away every time. Or the way his face twisted when he got stumped on a particularly difficult problem. As if scowling down at the book would suddenly make the answer appear. Or his freckles spattered like paint across his face. fuck fuck fuckity fuck he was so fucking g-

So what that he noticed all these things? No one would ever know but him. 

His mother is smoking downstairs when he gets down. A bottle of orange juice and vodka besides a stupidly full glass. The meniscus just over the rim of the glass.

Ah fuck. Nerd alert. 

"Hey mom, think you can get some groceries for me before you and dad leave?" 

She hums. Not looking up from the magazine in her hand. 

"Or leave me some money? So I can get stuff?" 

She doesn't say anything. Just flips a page. 

Sometimes he wonders what's worse. Eddies overprotective mother or the way his mother just doesn't seem to remember she has a son. Except of course when it's time to show the world how the Toizer family were so close and healthy and happy. Just look at the beautiful new drapes in the parlor room and ignore the water damage in the living room. 

He pushes out into the garage to find his bike. The only gift his parents gave him and only because Stanley's mom had mentioned getting one for Stanley. Mrs. Toizer couldn't be stood up as a good mother! 

He needed to grease up the gears soon but that is going to have to wait until after his parents get back. He's got just under $7 dollars saved and he needs to save that for food. 

He pushes his bike to the end of the driveway and peddles down towards school. At least he has lunch paid for already. 

"What are you doing here so early?" Eddie asked as Richie climbed into homeroom a whole ten minutes before the bell rang. 

"Well your mom was tired since I was fucking her all night so I decided to give her a break." 

"Okay first of all-" 

And just like that the pressure on his chest that had been there all night dissipated as the two of them bickered until the bell rang and the teacher gave them a look. 

So long as Eddie Kaspbrak bickered back the entire world could fall apart around him and he wouldn't care. 


	2. Chapter 2

How he managed to fuck up this bad, hes not sure. 

Honestly Trashmouth can't you close your mouth for five fucking seconds you shit stain of a person. 

He may have let it slip that his parents were gone to the entirety of the Losers Club. Which meant they all wanted a place to hang out. Adult and bully free starting tonight. Which was fine except he had no idea what the food supply looked like in the house. 

He managed to buy himself exactly two hours. 

The house is, of course, a mess when he gets in. There is glass all over the floor in the kitchen. Probably from the Vodka bottle that his mother dropped earlier that morning. There are clothes from their last minute packing and the scale from the upstairs bathroom tossed around in the living room. And every where he looks there's dirt and dust. 

Eddie would have a panic attack just thinking about this how dirty this place is. 

So he does the most natural thing possible. He sweeps up the glass making sure to get every single piece even if one or two cut his fingers better than his friends getting hurt. He vacuums the place until there isn't a single sign of dirt anywhere and slams open the windows to get the musty smell of old alcohol that seemed to inhabit any place his mother went. 

He still has an hour by the time he finishes cleaning everything he can think of downstairs. He even cleaned the freaking bathroom. 

And it was not because the idea of forcing Eds to stay inside the pigsty that was his house twist up his insides. Okay it is. Like he'll tease Eds all he wants but making him suffer is the last thing he ever wants to do. Which is why he can't find out that Richie Trashmouth Tozier was in love--Beep Beep Trashmouth. 

He rummages through the cabinets trying to find something to scrape together for his friends to eat. There is six cans of soup three packets of pasta and a bag of unopened chips. In another cabinet there was a army of dried herbs and a small bug filled bag of flower. He pulls the chips out and two of the pastas and a tomato soup. Pasta with soup as a sauce it is. 

In the fridge there is some just before the-expiration-date milk and a bit of string cheese in one of the cabinets. In the bottom of the cabinet that was filled with empty grocery bag there was exactly one thing of garlic and half an onion, both of which passed an inspection. The rest is his fathers favorite brand of beer and some random condiments, butter, mustard, some hot sauce. There is also half a loaf of bread and some sliced deli meat that looks suspiciously green. Although he wont let his friends eat it, he definitely has no reservations about eating it later. In the freezer there is some strange suspicious lumps of frozen meet that he has no idea what they are but know they will definitely get eaten sometime in the next three weeks and two packets of frozen veggies. And surprise surprise more alcohol. Maybe alcohol has some unknown nutritional value so he can survive the month. 

Its was a surprise to his friends how good he is at cooking. He knows, he remembers how shocked they had been. The last time he cooked it was a few weeks after the clown shit, instead of two years like it would be today, they had all been at Bill's house. Helping him get comfortable in the house that cost him his brother. Both his parents were out for the weekend, heading up to the biggest city near Derry to watch some Play. Staying overnight just because the drive was too much. He had whipped them all a up a decent Meatloaf with whatever he could find inside of Bills fridge. But that only happened because none of them had money for pizza. So meatloaf. Which all of them had been hesitant to eat the asswholes. 

It of course got great reviews after Bill-- who really is the bravest one out of all of them-- took the biggest piece and tried the smallest bite possible. When he didn't gag or spit out the food the others dug in themselves. It had been a good day. 

Today was a shaping up to be a good day too. Eddie, Ben and Stan had all but snuck out of their houses and reached the Toizer residence near to their call time. While Mike and Beverly explained to their gardenias about there plan to spend the weekend at the Toizer house. Bill just walked out of his home, at this point his parents were so self-involved they probably wouldn't notice. He got there first and let himself in just as Richie diced the garlic and union into tiny pieces. He put the pasta water to boil and added a decent amount of salt. 

Cooking brought a level of calm to Richie he didn't get otherwise. Mostly because cooking meant no one else was home and he could just relax. No need to try and be funny so he wasn't overlooked by the people who mattered and no need to struggle with being a good son to the people who didn't. Just him and food. He hummed the first few bars of the latest song blasting it's way through the radio station and pushed the pan down at an angle then sharply tilted it up so that the garlic and onion flipped neatly in the pan. 

"H-how did yo-you do th-th-that?" Bills voice asked behind him. 

Causing Richie to jump and twist himself around which meant he went down in a tangled heap. Luckily none of the food went down with him.

He groaned as he tried to get up without showing how bad his ribs ached. Bill laughed loud enough that Beverly and Mike just crossing the threshold asked what had happened. 

"Richie made an ass of himself."

"When isn't he doing that?" Stan deadpanned as he and Ben walked in. 

"When who isn't doing what?" Eddie asked. 

Richie groaned, rewashed his hands and added the pasta into the boiling water without replying. His fragile peace had been broken but he still felt vulnerable, gooey stomach on display, he felt the same war within him, stay vulnerable with the six people he trusted, or build his walls back up. 

"Whatcha cooking housewife?" Beverly asked. 

"I'd make a fucking fantastic housewife thank you. Better than any of you at least." Well there was his answer.

Eddie snorted. 

"It's true! With the amount of time I spend fucking your mom I learned quite a bit." He raised his hand for a high-five before quickly bringing it down to add the sauce to his garlic onion mixture. 

That needs to heat up before the pasta gets done. 

Behind him he can hear everyone getting his living room set up. Bickering over what movie to watch or what game to play first. 

"How _did_ you learn to cook Richie?" Stan asked leaning against the counter top to watch as he shredded the cheese with his fingers to thicken the sauce. 

"Real men cook Staniel" 

"Oh so you just know because your such a man?" 

"Actually, when I snuck out of your house last night I saw this cookbook stole it. Needed something to remind me of your moms--" 

"Beep Beep asswhole." 

Stan went quiet. Looking at him. 

Out of all of the losers they were the closest. Not that that said much give how attached to the hip they all were. Richie had reminded Stan not to give in to his father's ridiculous standards. Went with him bird watching even if he complained and joked the entire time and forced Stan to confront the things he was frightened of. Meanwhile Stan was the only person beside his parents that had actually seen him cry. Stan had been the one who let him sneak in to his house when sleeping alone meant nightmares. In return he kept Stan from spiraling. Forced him to let go sometimes. Reminded him that he was important and so fucking brave.

Stan didn't know about the home life because there was nothing to tell. 

Getting shoved around meant nothing compared to what Eddie was facing. Or what Bev had gone through. 

Stan sighed. His sign that Richie wasn't doing the thing he wanted him to. That he was disappointed. Which sure Richie could disappoint everyone on earth, probably already has anyways, but he couldn't disappoint his friends.

Richie payed very close attention, more than needed, as the sauce bubbled, and said "I learned because sometimes my mom did feel like cooking but I was hungry."

That sounded innocent enough, right?

And he learned quick because wasting food was a horror story that ended with him dead. 

He should probably keep that close to the chest. Not that he was really sure why. Because this wasn't a big deal. 

Someone shifts at the doorway but when he glanced over it's empty. Looking at Stan he sees that he must have seen who it was. But he's not looking at Richie. Instead he's assessing the color of the wallpaper as if he never entered this kitchen before. 

The group walks in before he can start interrogating him. All clamoring for food. Luckily everything is about done and no one notices the weird tension in Stan's shoulders. No one notices the angry glint in Eddies yes. Well no one but Richie, then again, he notices everything about Eddie. His mom must have done something else when he tried to head over.

The night is successful and no one calls him out on his shit when he tells them that cooking is a once in a week kind of thing and if they get hungry they better go home and eat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Richie. 
> 
> I enjoy the idea of him knowing how to cook.   
> I enjoy it for many reasons but the main one being is that he is often presented as the class clown who can't ever be serious or sit still for more than three minutes and I feel that. However, what is Richie like when no one is around to see him?   
> My bet is that he's quiet and enjoys just being a person. 
> 
> Also i made Stan and Richie besties because i enjoy their dynamic. Like out of everyone Stan is the only one to not give Richie's trashmouth any attention.


	3. Chapter 3

On Sunday, he has water for breakfast, steals Ben's healthy snack that his mom packs for him for lunch and has the green deli meat slathered in mustard for dinner. It's an almost complete repeat of Saturday with the exception that Bev invited him over and he managed to stretch it until he had to eat dinner with them. Luckily her aunt didn't seem to mind. He goes to bed hungry but its not the first time. He just turns the television on in and puts on whatever wont turn into porn, he sleeps on the couch, so the noise distracts him from his thoughts and stomach, but its not the first time for that either.

Monday, he repeats his breakfast. Its a little known fact, with Derry's homeless population encompassing to like two people. But the library has a free lunch program that has saved his ass more times than he can count, it ran twice a week Mondays and Thursdays. The trick was to make sure not to take too much or the adults running the program would start to frown. Early in the Monday morning he could still swipe two Pb&J sandwiches and a carton of white rice. There was more there but this would be harder to miss and harder to notice on him. With the sandwiches he was any other school kid and he could shove the rice to the bottom of his bag pile all his other stuff on top of it. Or even if he was feeling daring hide it in his locker.

He almost tears into the sandwiches like four times and has a mouth watering fantasy that when he gets home there is a huge feast waiting for him. Roasted ham and mashed potatoes, with a side of gravy. Roasted vegetables and wild rice. Pumpkin pie, Apple pie and chocolate cake. The only thing that breaks him from it is his stomach letting him know that he was hungry. It was loud enough that the entire class broke into laughter. Including Eddie who turned a beautiful shade of red.

Lunch saw him pilling on all the non perishable food he could find into his tray. He shoved like two apples into his pocket and six of the bread sticks onto his plate. If he wrapped them up in paper he might be able to have breakfast for the next week. Apples would work perfectly as dinner. So long as he had lunch he'd be alright.

The Losers made fun of him but the quickly forgot it when Stan brought up a very important Friday planning.

Lunch passed without any issue. And when he shoves half his plate into his backpack no one notices because they are to busy arguing over what to do Friday. 

The next two days is the same. On Thursday he grabs a couple of cans from the lunch program and some vegetables hiding it in a bag and then in his locker until the evening. 

However, it's homeroom on Friday that causes some issues. He hadn't been worried. Not really. Because he has once a day a full meal and whatever extra he can smuggle out. He hadn't even touched the shit in his house because well there was no need. 

Not yet at least. If he could save the food at home for the weekends he didn't need to be worried about food. 

That of course changed. 

Because this was fucking Derry, Maine.

Yes of course the fucking mayor had to decide that this was the year, the month, the fucking week, that school lunches were by payment only. 

Oh god he really was gonna die this time. 

He tries to talk to his homeroom teacher about any exceptions but she's too use to Richie the distraction to help Richie the desperate. 

He could make a bid with the principal but that would mean explaining and his dad would be pissed if he interrupted their getaway. 

Richie sighed.

Eddie who was sitting beside him in his next class cut him a sharp look. One that said "Make another noise. I dare you."

Richie sighed louder even more obnoxiously.

From his carefully tilted head, so that he wasn't actually looking at Eddie because why would he be looking at Eddie, he could see his face scrunch up to his panted "I can't react here because I'll get in trouble" look. Which was quickly followed by three deep breaths and the clenching of his left hand around an eraser. With a false level of calm Eddie began to write whatever notes the teacher was droning on about. Sounded like it was about the World Wars. Although, Richie had almost been 100% sure that he was in English. He was about to sigh again, just as the crease between Eddie's eyes began to even out, a surefire way of getting him to scream profanities, when his stomach interrupted him with a grumble.

Richie looked away from Eddie staying intently at the board he wasn't even going to bother to read. Eddies face was probably doing that cute expression of "If you don't cut it out!" that never failed to both twist his stomach into bits and make his chest warm and gooey. But he didn't want to look.

His face was burning and he was almost completely sure that his face was a particular look of red embarrassment that he really didn't want Eddie to see. Didn't want anyone to see. Eddie wasn't special. Not at all. 

Although the next time Richie looks over Eddie is doing his frustrated scowl that he usually reserves for particularly difficult biology homework. But he keeps sending that scowl towards him.

He's not entirely sure why.

  
  


He doesn't eat lunch.

He had hoped that they wouldn't be starting this program until at least next week so he could swipe some stuff. But someone must have sent out an email to all the good concerned parents of Derry. Because every single kid is pulling out money for their lunch as soon as they get to the new shiny registers.

Which is fucking fine.

He hates to admit it but he sees Greta without money sitting in the back scowling at everyone like they were going to ask questions and has a moment when they lock eyes.

Fucking bitch.

Makin' him sympathize.

When he sits down and everyone pesters him about his lunch he even has a moment where he thinks she's got the right idea. But while Greta's knee jerk response is scowls and bullying, he's been a Loser too long to take shitty things out on other people.

So he makes three raunchy yo-mama jokes in twenty seconds until Stan stuffed one falafel filled with some type of gooey filling into his mouth. 

Oh no. He was not annoying his friends until they fed him.

He was not rewarding his friends with his silence if they fed them.

That was totally not happening.

But when Stan gave him a smirk and said "Who would have thought that all we needed to do to shut Trashmouth Toizer was to feed him?"

Richie shoots back "Yeah but this was a one time thing. Gotta test if it sticks." without actually thinking about what that means.

Which means that the next time he's making a terrible joke about Bens' mom's vagina and someone stuffs a peanut butter bar in his mouth he tries very hard to say something in between the bites. But he's too hungry to actually think of a good line.

So for a week his friends, particularly Stan and Eddie who he teased more than the others, kept shoving snacks in his mouth as a way to shut him up.

He didn't mean to do it. To bribe his friends with his silence and yet, by the time Saturday rolled around and he was supposed to host the whole group, he realized that was exactly what he had been doing. It like happened before he could really stop himself. 

Richie sighed and rolled his shoulders as he carefully calculated the meal he was gonna cook for his friends. With a long groan he headed to the phone and dialed before he could actually over think asking.

"Uris Household."

"Hey Stan the Man."

"I'll see you in half an hour Richie what do you want?"

Richie flushed.

"I...Uh... I don't... I don't have enough food to cook for everyone."

"Yeah? Do you want to cancel?"

"No. Um. I was just wondering if you could get something from your mom to contribute. Like just bring whatever she doesn’t want to use and I'll make a meal out of it and whatever I can throw around anyone.” 

There was silence across the other side of the phone. But not dead air. He could hear the rustling of papers as Mr. Uris read the newspaper and the soft sounds of jazz from their radio. 

“You know I promise to be extra quiet if you help me out Staniel the Manuel.” 

There was a heavier silence that enveloped the phone. 

Richie tapped his fingers against his thigh in a quick saccrato movement. It got faster and faster the longer the silence went on. Was this some kind of test? Was Stan trying to test his resolve? If he broke the silence first did that mean he wouldn’t be able to get the food? What was he gonna do if that was the case? The store down the road was extra attentive on Saturdays. That's when the highest amount of people walked through their doors. And while it might be easier to get away with swiping little things in big crowds he couldn’t exactly shove a thing of pasta down his pants in a crowded supermarket. What could he make here and now-

“I’ll see what my mom can do.”

“Really?” Richie asked. He felt his shoulders relax from beside his ears that he hadn’t even noticed he had raised. 

He let out a deep breath. 

And quietly said “Thanks Stan.”

There was a brief silence on the phone before Stan responded “Anytime Rich.” 

Richie hung up before his relief could give him hives that he’d transfer over to Stan through osmosis. 

When Stanley gets there, earlier than the others, he has an armful of food. 

“Jesus Stanley did you rob a convenience store? Where the fuck did you get so much food?” 

Stanley gave him a weird look as he dropped a large cloth bag filled with a bag of rice, a can of corn, one of cream and another of assorted vegetables into Richie's arms. In his other hand he had a small package. It looked like something from the butchers by the shops in the center of town. 

“Dude, seriously, what the fuck?” Richie quickly pulled Stan into his house and towards the kitchen. He carefully took out each item wondering how he had never seen half a pound of rice in the flesh. No that was a lie. He saw them in super markets but he had never had the chance to grab one himself. They were difficult to shove down one's pants. Or one's bag. 

“Richie this is just stuff my mom said I could bring. It's just some little things.”

Richie felt his shoulders immediately jump to hide his burning red ears but forced them to relax. “It’s a hard earned treasure Stanley.” Richie started remembering to give it a jokey tone at the last second. “You should be proud of ya pirate’s booty.” 

“Your stupidity astounds me sometimes.” Stanley says as he sits down on the kitchen table. 

There is some silence as Richie carefully arranges everything on the counters and digs through the spice cabinet to see what he had to work with. 

“What are you planning on cooking?” Stanley asks out of nowhere. 

Richie glanced over his shoulder to see Stanley looking at him. His gaze analyzing every movement Richie did. 

Richie gave a half hearted shrug. 

“I was thinking fried rice but I don’t have any eggs.” Richie said turning back to the spices and trying to find the soy sauce he knew he had “The rice won't stick together as well without one.” 

More silence enveloped the kitchen before Stanley broke the silence again. 

“What did you mean earlier?” 

“Stanley you yourself have told me I talked too much so you're going to have to be a bit more specific.” 

Finding a jar of honey that passed his inspection and a mostly full bottle of soy sauce richie set them aside before finding a pan to cook the rice in. He carefully measured out three cups of rice out of the bag before tying it off. He added his water and salt, ensuring the water barely covered the rice and put it on medium to cook. He then turned his attention to the mystery bag. Inside were assorted pieces of chicken meat. 

“On the phone, you said you’d be quiet if I brought you some food.” 

Richie felt his cheeks warm and he only didn’t duck his head through sheer willpower. 

“Yes well I figured you could use the incentive. But you can’t honestly be complaining unless you want me to stop answering you.” 

“So you were serious?” Stanley asked, his voice doing something strange. 

Richie turned to look at him. Stanley was hard to read. Or at least that was what everyone said. Richie personally thought that was bullshit. He could always tell if Stan was serious by the center of his forehead. By the twist of his lips when he was seriously angry. By the way his eyes gleamed when he was really happy. The way he sometimes got when he was really really upset. His entire face carefully blank. Waiting for an inspection from Mr. Uris. His fingers always gave him away though. Twitching slightly in his lap or gripping onto whatever he could. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked. Because Stanley’s face was blank. The way it usually got when his father got mad at him because of something. The way he vaguely remembers him looking when Pennywise first started terrorizing them all. A false calm. 

“You’re asking me that?” 

“Who the fuck else am I supposed to be asking you’re the only person here dipshit.” 

“I’m trying to figure out if you are okay you moron.” 

Richie startled at that. 

“Stanely what the fuck are you talking about?” He asked. Richie grabbed a skillet and oiled it with some butter then added the spices he wanted to stand out the most. “I’m fine.” 

“I have never in my life heard you be this quiet.” 

“That is a lie and you know it. I’ve gone birdwatching with you.” 

Richie added the pre cut pieces of chicken to the pan smiling at the sizzle. 

“That’s not the same. Usually I bribe you to shut up by agreeing to go to the arcade with you.” 

“So you have discovered my master plan,” Richie said with an evil accent, “What shall the great Stanley do now?” 

“Hit you.” Stan deadpanned. 

“I’m too powerful.” Richie replied in his normal voice. 

He lowered the heat on the chicken and turned to his friend. 

“Are you alright though Stanely?” 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” 

“Because you seem upset.” Richie crossed his arms and wished he could think of a joke that wouldn’t make Stan completely retreat into his shell. 

“I’m worried about you, dipshit.” 

That through him for a loop. He had to look at Stanley for a long minute before he could process what he had said. 

“What? Why? Dude I’m fine.” Richie assured. 

He spun is a small slow circle careful not to get dizzy. “See fine. No need to worry.”

“I don’t know about that Richie.” 

But before Richie could ask what the fuck that meant the door to his house was shoved open and the loud voices of the Losers club filled the house. 

Richie shoved down the part of him that was glad Stanley had noticed something was wrong, that wanted to tell him everything, that wanted the care and attention it seemed to beg for constantly. Instead he forced himself to be glad that the awkward conversation had been halted. Indefinitely. 

Because it wasn’t a big deal at all. 

Stan had nothing to be worried about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for how long it took me to update this nonsense but we all know I'm going to do it again. Although this chapter is a bit longer than my others. I am not sure if it is a spacing issue. So I might do some edits. 
> 
> Hopefully, I shall have more time now that I'm trapped in quarantine. Although honestly TikTok is very distracting. I feel into a Reddie hole in there and now I can't get out. 
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! 
> 
> Please take care of yourself! Just imagine a little Eddie screaming at you anytime you do something. It's helped me wash my hands more often. Drink lots of fluids and take deep breaths. 
> 
> Cheers.


	4. Chapter 4

The night ends well. Or at least when he feel asleep by the end of the movie it had been pretty good. 

It started awkwardly. How could it not with Richie hyper focusing on adding a small amount of soy sauce to the chicken. And Stanley staring at Richie's back hard enough to burn a hole through his back. 

"Wh-w-what did Ri-ri-richie do now?" Bill asked as soon as he walked into the kitchen. 

Honestly he had the worst friends. 

“I haven’t done anything!” He protested. Letting his voice get a bit higher in octave. 

“I haven’t done anything!” Beverly mocked as she walked in with Ben. 

“I haven’t.” Richie insisted with a smile growing on his face. 

“I have no idea what Richie is talking about but he one hundred percent has done it.” Eddie stated. 

“Et tu Eds.” 

“My name isn’t Eds.” Eds screeched. 

“Eds, light of my life, the most important part of my day-” Richie cut himself off as he flipped the pan and its contents into a small clean bowl and used a relatively sharp knife to dig into the vegetable can. He poured out the water from inside the can and gave it a quick rinse, added more oil to the pan and dropped the contents into the pan. “Haven’t you figured out that you're not gonna stop me from calling me Eds.” 

“I can try.” He mumbled. 

When Richie glanced over Eddie was flushed and looking away from him. Richie glanced down. But he definitely was wearing pants. Which were sitting just at his hips. His long sleeve shirt was ruffled up and showing some skin. His sleeves pulled back to his elbows showing off his forearms and hands. But he was definitely 100% wearing pants. He wondered what made Eddie look so flushed. It wasn't his I have to ride fast flush nor his angry blush. In fact Richie hadn't ever seen that look on Eddie's face before. He tried very hard to pretend like he wasn't going to spend the whole night trying to catalog it. It was a nice lie. But it wasn’t a lie because he wasn’t gay.

What a nice fucking save Trashmouth. 

“Hey, what movie should we watch?” Ben called from the living room where most of the other losers had gathered. 

“There's a new horror movie that my aunt let me get.” Beverly said moving towards the living room. 

“Look through the catalog.” Stanley suggests from the kitchen table. 

The house fills with noises from the general rowdiness of having several teenagers in one house. It’s what he wants every day and night for his entire life. He wants every minute loud and rowdy and a party. 

“We're still having this conversation.” Stanley tells him. 

“What conversation?” Richie asks, hyper aware of Eddie still standing against the counters watching him cook. “The conversation about how long my wang is. Damn Stanley I didn’t think you would be interested. I should have known that my manly musk would eventually-” 

“Make me gag?” Stanley remarked, cutting him off. 

“Stan the man getting off a good one!”

Richie carefully added the chicken to his sauteed vegetables before adding honey, some spices and more soy sauce. Then with a quick glance at the rice to see it nice and fluffy he dumped that into his large pan and gave it all a through mix. 

Adding even more soy sauce he quickly mixed everything. Making sure to, you know, show off, mix it with some flips of the plan. 

“Keep an eye on that for me, will ya?” Richie asked as he stepped to the cabinet that held the bowls. 

He pulled out seven exact replicas and carefully set them on the counter. 

“I could have found the bowls, idiot.” Eddie said. 

“First of all Eddie dear are you even tall enough to reach the counter top?” Richie got a kick on his shin for his trouble. Luckily he saw it coming and wasn’t holding anything fragile. He dug out a serving spoon and began to fill the bowls. “Two, I wouldn’t want you to find my secret ingredient.” 

“What secret ingredient everything you just used was my food.” Stanley deadpanned.

“What are you talking about Stan?” Eddie asked his voice high pitched/ 

“Foods up!” Richie shouted over any reply. The rest of the group who had been, from the sounds of it arguing over who the most overpowered superhero was, and it sounded like Mike had gotten heated enough over it to raise his voice beyond his gentle speaking tone. Quickly like a starving army Richie was handing out bowls and utensils to each loser before frog-marching everyone into the living room. 

Together they settled in his living room and played the movie. 

Just as the main credits were over Eddie stood up and headed out the room. Richie figured he was just headed towards the bathroom and didn’t really pay much attention. Well at least to him leaving. 

When he came back though his cute little face was pinched up into his patented scowl. He kept directing a “I’m going to explode” look towards him. Towards Richie. 

Which made no sense the house was clean. He was the only person living here. What on earth was the problem? 

“Whats up?” Richie whispered. 

Only to get shushed by Ben and Mike. Those two lured you in by appearing nice and innocent but really they were asswholes. 

Richie turned his attention back to the T.V. and ate his fill of dinner. Before long the warm food and the hot press of Eddie's legs all along his own drew his eyelids closed more and more until they shut completely. 

When he awoke it was to harsh whispering. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said but he could hear it was coming from Eddie and Stanley. 

Stanley had been his friend for years, he could pick up his voice no matter what volume it was. And with Eddie well it was whatever. It was like he was hyper focussed towards Eddie. All parts of him. No particular reason. 

Richie got up with a groan and glanced around. The rest of the losers seemed to have passed out in various positions of varying comfort. 

Richie picked his way through them and picked up the empty bowls and made his way with his arms full to the kitchen. 

There in the shitty lighting of his kitchen was Stanley and Eddie two half empty waters between the two of them as they sat on his kitchen table. 

"Uh sup guys." Richie said as he carefully arranged the bowls into the dishwasher. 

"Am I interrupting your date?" Richie whispered with a wink.

"No!" Eddie began loud before turning it into a hiss "Don't be stupid." 

Richie shrugged, grabbed the pan and pot from the stove and put both into the sink determined to clean it later. But the stove was a mess. That's what happens when you fry things with oil. Richie grabbed the sponge from the sink and scrubbed it down. Ignoring Eddie's his of that's disgusting. Then opened the bottom cabinet underneath the sink to get the Clorox. He sprayed it down then used a damp cloth to finish cleaning. He tossed the used cloth on the floor and sat down besides Eddie. 

"So girls" he says "whatcha talkin bout?" 

"You." Stan said leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. 

“Uhhh why?” Richie asked wishing he had just stayed asleep. He shifted in his seat. 

“Because Richie there's no food here!” Eddie shrieked. 

Both Richie and Stan shushed him. 

“What the hell are you talking about Eds?” Richie asked. “I just cooked for you.” 

“That was my food that you cooked, remember?” Stanley said. 

Richie flushed and glared at him. “I didn’t have enough food to serve seven losers, Stanley. But I got food.” 

“Where?” Eddie asked. 

Richie threw a vague hand at the house in general. 

“Richie there is not enough food to feed someone here for four weeks.” Eddie stated. 

“Oh come on how do you know? It’s not like you’ve looked through my cabinets.”

Eddie flushed and looked away. 

“Oh ho-ho. Edd-ie. Dirty boy. Are you going to look through anything else? My underwear drawer, perhaps.” Richie jokes, studiously ignoring how his head wanted to duck down. 

“Shut up! I was concerned! Everyone is Richie. Ben says he was you at the library last Monday at the hand outs line.” 

Last Monday? 

Oh for fucks sakes. Richie remembered that encounter. 

He had been super sure that Ben hadn’t actually seen him in line. 

It had been a bad day. His food supplies had been getting lower in the house. He had eaten the last of the mystery meat which had surprisingly ground beef, and not even bad ground beef. The frozen bag of veggies had been eaten over the last week and by the time he had realized food was very low it was too late to start serious food conservation. He still had a can or two of soup and a slice of two of bread. But he had been so hungry. He had just wanted a full meal and he had cooked and ate it before years of experience reminded him that that was a bad idea. His life for a meal. 

He had gotten a little more desperate at the food line. He had taken more non-perishables then maybe strictly necessary including more soups and even a few cans of beans he had immediately begun meal prep to make it last. He found some mystery meat in a can and decided it was perfect. He had been shoving all of that into his bookbag when he quite literally ran into Ben. 

But Richie was a smooth talker and always managed to distract people away from what he was always doing. 

And he had been sure he had managed to do so with Ben. Because no offence to the dude but if it didn’t have to do with Bev or books the dude wouldn’t really pay attention. But maybe that wasn’t fair to the dude. If he managed to notice Richie. 

“Guys really I am fine.” 

“How is this fine Richie?” Eddie screeched. 

“I th-thought we we-were doing th-is to-gether guys.” Bill stated by the doorway. 

“Doing what?” 

“Let's move this to the living room shall we?” Stanley suggested. 

“Move what to the living room?” Richie asked, completely confused. He glanced over to Stan and then to Eddie. But their faces did not give any answer. 

They both stood up and started moving. Richie on the other hand stayed seated. That is until Eddie grabbed his arm in his tiny hands and yanked. Pulling Richie from his seat and yanking in tight bursts until Richie was sure his arm would disconnect. His head spun. The same way it had been doing his whole life. Eddie shoved him in a seat crossed his arms. 

“Talk.” He demanded. 

“About what?” 

Mike groggily sat up and took a look at everyone and hit Ben interrupting him mid-snore. He too sat up, took a look and went “Oh we're doing this now?”. Bev was blinking sleep out of her eyes and stretching from where she had curled up on the sofa. 

“Doing what?” Richie asked looking around his friends for some type of answer. 

“Richie you are honestly the dumbest person I have ever met.” Stan stated. 

“Okay you are probably right but what the fuck is going on.” Richie snapped back. 

“Richie have you been eating?” Beverly asked, sitting down beside him. 

“What?” Richie asked again. “Yeah of course. Dudette we ate today.”

“Be-cause St-st-stanley ga-ve you fo-oo-ood.” Bill stuttered. 

“Did you tell everyone?” Richie asked Stanley. 

“Yes.” 

“What the fuck, Stanley?” Richie hissed anger coursing through his veins. The last time he remembered being this angry was when he got punched by Bill. He had been angry and frustrated and a little betrayed and now it was the same. But somehow worse. 

Because when Bill hit him you could argue he deserved it. But he didn’t need this little bullshit. 

“Wait!” Richie stated. “Is this an intervention?” 

Stanley hid his face in his hand and breathed out a “Jesus fucking Christ.” beneath his breath. 

“Yes Richie this is an intervention.” Ben said. “We’re worried about you.” 

“What are we girls?” Richie dismissed. 

“Why are you so resistant about this?” Eddie asked, folding his arms over one another and glaring at Richie like that was going to do something. 

“Because it’s not a big deal!” Richie replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize and promise to never take so long again 
> 
> But I think we would all not believe me. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment they honestly make my decade :) 
> 
> I'll try and do my best to update sooner rather than later.


	5. Chapter 5

He took it back this night was horrible. 

He wanted off the ride now please. 

Everyone was way too quiet for his comfort. 

Richie and silence didn’t work together. Silence was three am thinking sessions that left him feeling like a stranger in his skin. Silence was the house filled with people but completely empty. 

So he really needed someone to say something before the ants in his skin ate him alive. 

“Not a big deal?” Stanley asked in his quiet voice. 

That was a bad voice. Worse than silence because it meant Richie had said something _wrong._ Even worse since it was Stanley and he was angry. 

“Yeah,” Richie deflected “it's not a big deal.” 

Because he never learned how to shut up. 

“What the fuck-”

“You are not that fucking stupid-” 

“Oh course it’s a big deal-” 

Several voices broke out except for Stanley’s. He was just looking at Richie, arms crossed gaze steady. 

“Where the fuck did you get the idea that this isn’t a big deal?” Stanley asked, cutting through the rest of the noise. 

“It just isn’t.” 

“How often has this happened?” Eddie asked. 

Richies thoughts raced forward as he tried to find an answer that would satisfy them without getting him deeper into the shitwhole. 

“My parents haven’t ever been on a vacation before if that's what you're asking.”

“Richie I might actually kill you.” Eddie states. 

Bill crosses over and gets closer to Richie. He takes Richies hands in his and grips them tight. It takes every ounce of self-control not to pull his hands out of the grip. Bev came around and put her head on his right shoulder, Ben on his left. Mike put his hands on Richies back. Eddie kneeled by his feet and put his hands on Richies forearm. They burned like a brand. Stanley ran his hand through Richies wild hair. 

“This is not okay.” Bill stated. He tightened his grip as Richie tried to pull it away. “Seriously Ri-richie. T-t-talk to us-us.” 

“Look it happens okay? It’s fine. My parents just don’t have the time to go grocery shopping and sometimes I have to figure things out. It's really not a big deal I promise.” 

“Richie this is a big deal.” Ben says beside him. His weight was comforting as it reminded him to breathe. Behind him Mike crawled in closer, almost as if he was going to wrap around him. Mike rested his head against Richies back. 

Every breath tickled his back. In fact, everything tickled. He could feel his skin rolling and it was almost as if he needed to itch his skin off. 

“No it's not. Look it's just food and I learned how to cook thanks to it so it’s even a good thing.” 

“So they have never hit you?” Bev asked. 

“It ain’t like that Bev.” Richie assured. 

“Ain’t like what?” Bev asked, pulling back to look at him. 

“It ain’t like your dad, Bev.” 

Bill tightened his grip on Richies hands almost to the point of pain. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Mike commented. His voice vibrated through Richies chest. “It’s not a competition.” 

Richie tried pulling his hands out of Bill’s and shrugging them off but everyone just gripped them tighter. 

“Its fi-” 

“It’s not fine Richie.” Eddie insisted. 

Looking at Eddie's brown eyes as he kept a steady gaze. Richie felt a blush raise up his face and his shoulders raised up to his ears. 

“You deserve better Richie.” Eddie said. 

The sob that had been growing in his chest ever since Bill grabbed his hands broke through his clenched teeth. His friends gripped him together. Everyone puts their arms around him. Someone took his glasses off and just like that the others were crying too. He could hear Bev sniffling in his ear, Eddie was shaking beside him and Mike's tears were soaking his shirt. Stanley was saying something into his ear as his arms were wrapped around his head. 

Eventually things died down enough for Richie to say “This is really touching but I don’t have my glasses so I don’t know who you people are.” 

Everyone chokes out a laugh. 

“You don’t have to hide from us Richie.” Stan whispers, hugging tighter.

Something burns in Richie’s throat and his eyes sting as if he hadn’t finished crying. He looks at Bill's hands which still have let go of his. His shitty eyesight melding their hands together into amalgamation of fingers. 

“My dad doesn’t like me.” Richie tells Bill's hands which tighten even more making some fingers in the mass of flesh he sees turn paler. His face is burning. He’s hot and he feels like his head has been detached from the rest of him. Just his head and where Eddie is holding on to his arm. 

Beside him Bev presses in closer. And behind him Mike takes a deep breath as if he’s bracing for something. 

Ben’s arm around his waist tensed and he burrowed closer. 

“And my mom just doesn’t care. I’m too much. I always have been.” Richie tries to shrug but the weight of Ben and Bev’s head stops him. It’s like someone else is saying these things. 

“She drinks a lot and dad is often working late and coming back smelling like perfume. They often forget that I’m here. This is a rare thing, them being gone for so long usually the house is regularly stocked for the most part. But my mom doesn’t like cooking or sometimes she’s just too drunk to cook at all.” 

Stanley breathes into his ears and Eddie's hands have become vice-like. Eddie's palms are warm and he feels hyper focused at his hands on his arms and Ed's torso leaning against Richies leg. 

“And I know it sounds bad but it’s really not that big of a problem.” Stanly breathes in deeply and Eddie's hands tighten to the point of pain. Bill is shaking, Richie can see his hands shaking his own. 

“They are just bad at being parents. Dad just wants me to stay out of the way and keep quiet so that he doesn’t have to deal with me. My mom wants this perfect kid she can show off at parties but she got me instead. And like I can’t really blame them you know? I’m a lot all the time.” 

“Maybe but I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Bev promised. 

“Who else would make us laugh all the time?” Ben asked.

“Or head over to our house in the middle of the night because of a nightmare?” Stanley asked. 

“Or make fun of Victor when he gets too much?” Bev asked. 

“Or get us out of the house when we've spent too much time indoors.” Mike asked.

“Or give me a place to go when my mom is too much?” Eddie asked. 

“O-r-r k-kill a c-clown for us-us.” Bill reminded. 

“That was a one time thing buddy.” Richie snarked pretending he was not crying not at all. No tears here. His face is hot but it's like he's coming back to himself. His head isn’t detached. 

They laughed and for a moment everything was calm and Richie just breathed in the peace. Something in his chest, something that had been there for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit, loosed and he felt the tension release from his body. 

“Okay, enough. Emotions give me hives and I really don’t want to pass it to anyone.” Richie jokes, pulling his hands away from Bill to wipe his eyes. 

Stanley backed up a bit but kept his hands in his hair. He ran his hand through Richie's hair letting his nails drag against his scalp. A shiver went up richies spine. And that was just not fair. Okay everyone pen and paper not a fair move! He loved it when people did that. It wasn’t fair for Stanley to not only use it against him now when he’s feeling scraped raw and vulnerable but to also show everyone else that little trick. 

“Not yet,” Stanley stated, running his hand through his hair. “Have they ever hurt you, Richie?” 

Richie felt himself flinch back and without really realizing it tried to move away from everyone until Bill caught his hands. 

“Easy Richie.” Eddie said. 

“I’m not a fucking horse, Eds.” Richie quipped. 

“Don’t call me Eds, dipshit.” He snapped back before looking like he regretted it. 

“Don’t let him derail this.” Stanley stated. 

Richie tried to glare at him but he couldn’t see Stanley well enough to even catch his eyes. 

“I’m not derailing anything.” Richie protested. 

“You are literally doing that right now, Richie.” Eddie argued. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“No! I am not derailing anything.” 

“Yes you are, Richie.” 

“Okay enough.” Mike said, voice even calm. “I don’t care if he is or is not trying to derail things. I want an answer, Trashmouth.” 

Richie looked down at Bill's hands again. 

Bev took a deep breath beside him. 

“It’s okay, Richie it’s okay.” She said. “It’s us. It’s the loser club. We won’t judge you I promise.” 

“Just the normal amount. Really it’s-” 

“Say it’s not a big deal one more fucking time Richie and I swear to god!” Eddie snapped, his voice loud in the quiet of the moment. 

Richie sighed. 

Eddie gripped onto his arm tighter and tugged at him until he looked at his general direction. And shit even when he couldn’t see Eddie he was cute. A very handsome blob of pale skin and brown hair. It was a little creepy given that where his eyes and mouth were supposed to be were just black holes. 

“Say I don’t deserve to be treated the way they treat me.” 

“Thats a fucking mouthful Eds.”

“Say it.” 

“I don’t deserve to be treated the way they treat me.” Richie said. 

“Again.” 

“I don’t deserve to be treated the way they treat me.” Richie said. 

“Again.” 

“Seriously?” Richie complained. “How many times are you gonna make me do this?” 

“Until you believe it.” Ben said. 

Richie rolled his eyes but dutifully repeated it again. 

And again. 

The fifth time he said it his voice caught. 

The sixth time he cried. 

They all hugged again, holding onto him as he fell apart. 

“Hives guys seriously I’ll break out in hives.” 

They chuckled. 

“Come on. We should get some sleep and tomorrow I’ll make us pancakes.” Ben states. 

“Pancakes? Where are you going to pull pancakes from?” Richie asks even as he puts on his glasses and stands. 

“My ass.” Ben deadpans. 

Richie blinks at him, at his chubby face looking perfectly serious while his lips almost slipping into a smile, and bursts out laughing. 

“Benny boy getting off a good one.” Richie jokes. 

With Bill and Mikes help they set up the blow up mattress and opened up the couch bed only to steal the mattress and place it beside the other one. 

Before he knew it he was plastered between Eddie and Stan. He can feel his heart racing and tries very hard not to think about how warm Eddie's arm is where it’s pressed against his. Or how Eddie was breathing deeply in and out. Behind Stan, Bill moves around causing the mattress to shake. Beside Eddie Ben and Bev were whispering something, too quiet for him to hear even though no other sounds were being made. 

Eddie smells like vanilla. It's the thing that stands out the most about all of this. Eddie smells like vanilla and is right next to him in bed. Richie is between freaking out and running away or burying himself into the smell like a botfly in skin. 

It's not fair. 

Everyone is so nice. So fucking _nice_. But if he said anything about this big dumb crush it would ruin everything. And at the same time he didn’t want to lie anymore. They were so fucking nice. But it would make things weird wouldn’t it? Could they ever lay down like this again when they knew he was gay. God he had promised himself he’d never think it out loud. 

Or say it out loud. 

Richies dirty secret. The really bad one that no one could ever figure out. 

Eddie's hand came up and ran through Richie's hair. 

“Stop thinking trashmouth and go to sleep. Everything will be okay.” Eddie whispers, turning over to look at him. 

Richie turns too. Two commas on a bed. It's like the beginning of a bad nerd joke. 

“Just go to sleep. You’ll see everything will be fine.” 

And he does. 

He falls asleep from one breath to the next, the feeling of Eddie's hand in his hair imprinting forever. 

In the morning his friends pull out boxes of pancakes and biscuits and he teaches them all how to whisk and how to flip a pancake with one hand. They sit in his living room and tell jokes and watch early morning cartoons. 

For the rest of his life he'll forever remember the theme song of _Pinky and the Brian_ with the soft drifting of fluff in the sunlight and the sound of laughter. He’ll hear those first opening notes and warmth will fill his entire being. 

But his life isn’t Saturday morning cartoons with pancakes. 

So the other shoe drops. 

It starts with Ben. His father found yet another job somewhere off in the distance. He left to become someone else's new kid on the block. They all gathered to give one last goodbye. Clutching each other the way they did after they realized that no one had died during the encounter with Pennywise. 

But it would be alright. 

There were letters and postcards and phone calls. 

After the second month of silence they all considered it a warning sign. But no one said anything. 

Then Bev left with promises to call as soon as she got settled. 

She didn’t. 

Neither did Bill when he left. 

Then it was just him, Mike, Stanley and Eddie. 

Until Eddie left. 

He definitely did not hug Eddie for longer than what would have been considered alright. But he tried to soak up everything Eddie was. Tried to embed the memory of his arms wrapped around him. Of Eddie's smile and his red faced rage. 

He forgot all of that when he moved. 

He forgot Eddie's smile and his rage. Bill's hands in his as he cried. Ben’s weight against his shoulder and Bev’s kind words. He forgot Stans arms around his head and Mike’s even breathing against his back. 

He forgot Eddie-my-mom-bought-extra-rice-this-week-Kaspbrak and Stanley-my-mom-packed-me-extra-for-lunch-Uris. 

He forgot what having friends was like. 

He remembered being hungry. 

Which is fine. 

Because it’s not a big deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah my friends, 
> 
> I am so sorry. 
> 
> This work is not abandoned at all. 
> 
> It's just been a hell of a few months. 
> 
> Which given that there is a world wide pandemic going around I am sure that I don't have to tell anyone that. 
> 
> There is just one Final chapter left. It is the epilogue. It is not written but it has basically be outlined up by my brain. So it's basically done. (NO) 
> 
> The next chapter will probably be much easier to write as it is actually happy. As it is an Epilogue. 
> 
> Any eagle-eyed readers will notice that this has become a series. That is on the off chance that I decide to write another story focusing on one of the other Losers. There was a really interesting analysis of It in where Pennywise is a metaphor for abuse. Only children can see him, he sticks with you long after he is gone, he comes in cycles, he pits children against one another ect. 
> 
> It gave me ideas for other stories. Mainly for Stanley as after Richie he is who i Identify the most. 
> 
> However, as you already know my writing speed is slower than a glacier so please do not expect it to happen anytime soon. 
> 
> Also, before the epilogue I will be going through and doing some quick edits and clean up. 
> 
> Then this story will be finished. 
> 
> Thank you for all your patience and i am so sorry for how long it has taken me to update. 
> 
> Stay safe Gazebos.

**Author's Note:**

> Richie is trying to excuse the behavior of his parents by pretending that its not a big deal. It is a big deal. 
> 
> There is a child abuse hotline:  
> Us/Canada: 1-800-422-4453  
> South Africa: 0800 55555  
> Australia: 1-800-55-1800  
> UK: 0800 800 500 (Text): 0800 056 0566  
> (P.s. I found these phone numbers here: http://www.vachss.com/help_text/hotlines_intl.html ((except of the first one that is the third result if you type in child abuse hotline in the states)) 
> 
> If you need to contact the authorities or just need a friendly ear please take some time to look up hotlines. They are here to help, to listen and they wont judge.


End file.
